


Come With Me

by fab_fan



Series: Through the Years [3]
Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, F/F, Random & Short, Short, Short One Shot, just go with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25727890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: The air shifted around Raelle, causing her spine to tingle in unerring anticipation. A sweet sultry voice brushed against her ear from behind her, lips grazing her skin like a ghostly promise of nights fantasized about once the gin hit and the last of the inhibitions her mama taught her drifted away with a dash of salva and a hungry tongue.“Miss me?”
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Series: Through the Years [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065368
Comments: 19
Kudos: 135





	Come With Me

**Author's Note:**

> People wanted a gangster/bootlegger fic. Don't blame me.

The speakeasy was busy as all get out. The band was loud and raucous, the trumpet squealing and bass jivving as the drums beat away so fast it was a wonder the boy behind the set didn’t give himself a heart attack. Folks skipped and spun around on the small dance floor, shiny leather shoes gliding like wings on air, pearls flashing and pocket watches glinting, whispering secrets of wealth and power that bought them a ticket into this den of seduction and song. Laughter and conversation floated along, nipping at the music’s heels and fighting for dominance in the smoky sweat infused air, chords and chatter pushing and pulling till they tangled together in a chaotic crashing of symphonic sound.

Raelle sat off to the side, twisting the simple silver ring on her pointer finger absentmindedly as she waited, ignoring everyone and everything around her except for the ticking of the clock that was always in her head and the phantom thrum of the engine she needed to be shifting into gear soon. She grit her teeth as a drunken gal sloshed by her, drops of burning giggle water stinging the back of her neck left bare between her too tight collar and the fine blonde hairs that swept up under her cap, the brim pulled low over her braids and piercing steely blue eyes. She could feel the foreign liquid mix with the sweat dotting her skin, beads meandering down to stain the stiff white buttoned down cotton.

Chewing her bottom lip, she tapped her knuckles against the oak of the bar, eyes flickering up as the bartender shot her a questioning look. She shook her away with a quick twitch of her chin. She wasn’t drinking tonight. Not when she was meant to be halfway down the coast an hour ago, racing against time and trouble to get to the port for a pickup that needed distributing by noon tomorrow or heads would roll.

Alder didn’t suffer fools, and one fuck up could lead to a stint in her bad graces.

Nobody wanted to be in Sarah Alder’s bad graces.

Mayor of Salem, she gave rousing patriotic speeches by day, preaching to the public about how her police force would tear down the criminal underbelly of the city and bring peace and prosperity to the masses. By night? Behind closed doors and with a whiskey in hand, only the finest from Canada, she’d lead the largest gang this side of the mason-dixon line like the well oiled machine of an enterprise capitalism intended for.

You mess with Alder, and you ended up dead or in prison, one way or another. By cop or criminal, a bullet was still a bullet.

Glancing around the club once more, Raelle sighed. Byron was a hell of a friend, always ready with a bit of wit and homemade wine, but he could get lost in a handsome man quick enough to forget he had obligations beyond a sassy wink and reciting Shakespeare as if that would lure in the tipsy toy even more.

She had half a mind to leave. She’d figure out what was owed for the order without his handing over the paperwork. Most likely the same as always, give or take a few bottles here or there.

The air shifted around Raelle, causing her spine to tingle in unerring anticipation. A sweet sultry voice brushed against her ear from behind, soft winsome lips grazing her skin like a ghostly promise of nights fantasized about once the gin hit and the last of the inhibitions her mama taught her drifted away with a dash of salva and a hungry tongue.

“Miss me?” 

Raelle held in a shiver as teeth nipped at her earlobe before the seductress slipped away, gracefully sliding into the seat beside her, elegant as a million bucks amongst dime store dames.

Raelle kept her face forward, but her gaze couldn’t help but peek over at her new companion. Dark hair the color of midnight and blue eyes that were so deep Raelle could get lost in them and never recover, drop down to the bottom of the ocean like a sinking ship and never want to return to the surface. Skin the color of alabaster stone and lips as red as rubies. Not a hair out of place or a sign of any discomfort in the rollicking oven of a basement. Strong, sexy, and as sensual as a dream.

Damn, if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman Raelle’d ever met in her young life.

And she knew it, too.

Raelle might have told her once, half dressed and seeing stars as she tasted heaven in a tiny apartment on the north side of town.

Scylla smirked at her, resting an elbow on the bar and waving for the bartender, “Come now, don’t be like that.” She didn’t look away from Raelle when the woman in the crisp tuxedo and bowtie stepped over, “Vodka martini, dirty, and whatever she’s having.”

The bartender didn’t move, glaring at Scylla before turning to Raelle.

Raelle exhaled, “This ain’t no place for you to be, Scyl.”

“I want to be wherever you are.” Scylla replied, “That includes this darling little place. Now, what are you having? Gin and tonic? Let’s have a drink and then a dance. You always like to dance after a gin and tonic.”

The bartender, stiff as a board, fingers twitching at her side, didn’t move to fill the order.

If Scylla noticed, she didn’t say.

Raelle finally lifted her chin at the third wheel, the woman sweeping away, a curious look shot at the blonde as she left.

“Dance first, then?” Scylla purred.

Raelle twisted around, voice dropping to a growl, “You’re gonna get yourself killed. What the hell you doin’ in here?”

Scylla stared at her, suddenly serious, “I needed to see you.”

“Alder’s gonna know you’ve been here.”

“Let her. The great Sarah Alder doesn’t scare me.”

“She should.” Raelle shook her head ruefully, “Ain’t no Spree stepping foot in this side of town except one lookin’ for a one way trip to the other side.”

Scylla’s voice became thready, “It isn’t only the Spree she’ll kill.”

Alder was willing to take out anyone she deemed a threat or nuisance.

Like a peaceful law abiding couple, their daughter hidden out back, whose only sin was refusing to pay the local thugs a _protection fee_ for their humble shop because it was nothing more than extortion.

Some nights Scylla still saw the sticky iron scented blood as it pooled across the floor, a horrific river leading to her unmoving parents.

Raelle leaned her side against the bar, pads of her fingers rubbing together, “What do you want, Scylla?” She suddenly felt tired. Exhausted yet anxious, nervous energy bubbling inside her belly as resignation coated her mind like a wet blanket.

“I heard about the run you made last week from Plymouth.”

A run that nearly ended with her in a ditch and bullet holes riddling her body.

“Just ‘nother job.” Raelle shrugged, wincing as the trumpet gave a shrill squawk.

“No, it wasn’t.” Scylla leaned closer, “That run should have been wide open.”

Yet, an entire unit of uniforms was stationed along the roadway back to Salem.

Raelle’d never driven so hard in her life.

The engine continued to groan in the old Essex whenever she tried to get it to turn now, still spent and in need of replacing. Much like its driver. She refused to think about the bruise, still a mess of purple and blue, on her chest where a bullet had ripped through her coat and lodged in the flask Byron had given her that had been nestled in the inner pocket, stopping the bullet mere inches from her heart. A lucky shot that’d broken through her windshield as she’d roared past the line of cars blocking her path.

A shot that should have had her six feet under.

The blonde was brought out of her thoughts by the tentative touch of a hand against hers. Warm fingers curled around her palm, the heat somehow comforting in the grueling burn of the stifling heat shrouding the windowless room.

“Come with me.” Scylla offered, her eyes begging more than her voice allowed. 

“Thought you wanted a drink and a dance.”

“Later,” Scylla gave a tiny smirk, “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.”

Raelle looked at their joined hands.

Leaving with Scylla would be reported back to her boss within seconds. 

Alder would know within the hour.

One of her drivers was stepping out with a Spree. The rival gang that fought over Salem one block, one street, one corner at a time.

She was choosing to go with a rival than do her job, the seconds still ticking by and the scheduled pickup getting closer and closer.

“Please,” Scylla whispered, the word drifting between the clinking glasses and wailing horn to caress Raelle’s ear.

Wetting her lips, Raelle gave a small nod, standing up without a word. Scylla’s mouth twitched with a smile, her eyes flashing something Raelle refused to acknowledge, though her chest ached with the glimpse of it, as she followed suit. Raelle angled her head, gesturing for Scylla to go first. 

Scylla began to walk.

She didn’t release Raelle’s hand.

Secure and steady, she held on, not letting go.

They weaved through the throngs of people, skirting around a few tables and skipping up the back staircase that led to the service entrance. 

Ducking out of the heavy door, a burst of cold air slapped their cheeks, turning them red, as the scorching scent of the club released them from its grip. Boldly linking her fingers with Raelle’s, hands firmly clasped together, Scylla maneuvered them around trash cans and down narrow alleyways till they emerged onto an empty street, the townhomes asleep in the midnight hour.

Beach Street. 

Home to those who didn’t know the extent of the crimes and chaos that littered their community. Who went to work during the day and back home at night, playing cards with friends for wooden nickels instead of dice for dollars and sipped water instead of whiskey.

Raelle stopped, pulling Scylla to a halt, “What’s goin’ on?”

Scylla looked around, “Not here.”

Raelle studied her for a moment. 

Scylla was worried. 

It was plain as day on her face. In the lift of her mouth and the slant of her brow.

“Alright.” Raelle allowed herself to be guided to a nearby house, the two creeping into the tiny path between it and its neighbor, hidden from view in the shadows. Raelle let go of the other woman’s hand, leaning back against the cool brick wall and folding her arms, “What is it?”

Scylla unconsciously rubbed her hands together, “You were set up.”

Raelle pushed off the wall, “What?”

“Alder set you up. You were supposed to die that night. I…” she swallowed thickly, voice wavering, “I don’t know how you didn’t. When I heard…” she breathed in deeply, forcing a wobbly grin on her face, “Guess you are as good as advertised, and not just in bed.”

Raelle blinked, trying to follow, “Set me up? Why…”

“Because you talked, Rae.”

Raelle shook her head, “No...I didn’t…”

“Anacostia Quartermaine.”

The name caused all the air to be sucked out of Raelle’s lungs like a tornado ripping through a town, destroying everything it touched.

Anacostia.

A police sergeant who, along with officers Craven and Bellweather, seemed to have a brain not filled completely with booze and bribes.

Someone who had taken an interest in the bootlegger.

Had found her one night, emotional and almost through an entire bottle of nicked gin after Raelle discovered the girl she’d given her heart to worked for the very people Raelle was supposed to hate. Who she competed against. Who she’d gotten into fights with on dual runs and for treasured product.

As realization set in, Scylla took her hand once more, smoothing her thumb across her knuckles, “Raelle,”

“No, she...she can’t do nothin’, anyways. The Chief is in. The entire brass is in.” Panic bloomed in her like a frozen wildfire.

“Not if she goes to the feds.” 

Raelle swayed on her feet.

What had she done?

“It’s ok,” Scylla soothed, “Raelle,” she squeezed her hand.

“I’m so stupid.” Raelle looked at her, “You can’ be seen with me. If...If Alder…or Quartermaine...” 

“Stop.” Scylla stepped up to her, nudging her back against the wall, “I can take you someplace safe.”

“Safe? Where’s safe?” Alder owned the entire town.

“Join the Spree.”

Raelle’s head whipped around, “What?”

Scylla searched her eyes, “Join the Spree. Come with me.”

“The Spree? Are you nuts?”

Scylla cupped her face, “Listen. It doesn’t have to be for forever. They’ve always wanted you. One of the best runners this side of the Mississippi. If you want, you can do a few jobs while getting back on your feet. They’ll protect you from Alder.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Raelle,” Scylla calmly urged her to listen, “they’ll protect you while we figure this out. We can run away together. Go somewhere far far away. Never look back.” She choked back the lump forming in her throat, “If I thought I could, I’d take you away right now. I’d take you anywhere. North. South. The Caribbean.”

“You’d burn in the Caribbean.” Raelle muttered.

“I’d burn for you.” Scylla leant her forehead against the blonde’s, the brim of her cap tilting up,”I want you, Raelle. More than anything. I’ll protect you. Please. Let me choose you. Let me do this. Let _us_ do this.”

Raelle closed her eyes, mind a whirlwind, “I...I have to…”

“If you go back, she’ll kill you. You know she will. Raelle, please. You have to come with me right now. I won’t force you. But, please, I choose you. _I love you_.” A single tear slipped from beneath her lashes, slowly trickling down her cheek, “Come with me.”

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere.”

Scylla held her breath as Raelle touched the hand curved around her cheek, slowly removing it and bringing it around to her lips, planting the lightest of kisses against her fingers. “Last time you said you loved me, you disappeared.”

“I didn’t want to. I never wanted to hurt you.”

A pause.

“Only got a few nickels in my pocket.”

“I’ll sell apples and rob every bank in the country.”

“You lied to me.”

“Never about us. Never about _this_ .” Her words washed over Raelle, “ _This_ is real. My feelings for you are real. I love you, Raelle Collar.”

“You’d run away with me? Leave...everything behind?”

“I choose you. Nothing else matters.”

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I finally let myself love someone, love you, and...I would do anything for you. Because I can't be in a world that you're not."

Raelle went silent, lips pressing together in a thin line.

Scylla waited, heart heavy.

The weight of the decision loomed dense and life-altering between them in the night air.

The seconds ticked by.

“I’m drivin’.” Raelle finally spoke up.

“It’s my car.” Scylla croaked, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry.

“Best driver this side of the Mississippi, right?”

“Guess I’ll drive when we get to the other side.” 

“Scyl,”

Scylla kissed her, drinking in whatever she was going to say. Long and slow, her head and heart got lost in the sensation of being with the woman she’d missed for so long, who she’d feared she would never hold again.

As they broke apart, Raelle chasing her painted lips, Scylla tugged her away from the wall, “Come with me.”


End file.
